


Beneath the Surface

by CesarioOneiroi (VividDayDreamer)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Guilt, Heartache, Pain, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 23:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19859521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividDayDreamer/pseuds/CesarioOneiroi





	Beneath the Surface

Do you hear that?

No. No, of course you don't. 

It's the shattering of my heart, dear one. The one I gave. The one I trusted you with.

Though, I can't fault you. With these walls, it's left protected, hidden from sight.

My eyes shine with a twinkle, same as always. The accompanying smile, seals the deal. Without the physical representation of sadness, you will never know. You've never known. No tears shed. No distancing frown.

Words unsaid. Tears locked away. Smiles that mask the reality. The pain in my chest known only to myself. That's truly what's happening underneath that facade, dear one. That perfect picture of calm waters that you look upon? It's just for you.

It's not the image of ravaging waves that weather my heart and my soul. Pain from each thunderous crash, echoing deep with reminders of what I'd fallen victim to once more.

It's not of the powerful whirlwinds that hurl me into oblivion, slamming me up against a hardened surface; the only way to stop the chaos. There, I'm left trapped, locked to witness that unrelenting force that forces me to endure its wrath, as I leave my eyes shut tight, mouth and jaw clenched, wincing away.

It's not of the screaming, wailing voices inside my head like banshees, crying out to torture what's left of my sanity; tormenting me of my ill decision to allow you to hurt me like everyone else.

The pain of it all, too familiar, because, of course, I let it happen again.

It's like shards of glass, whipping at that stubborn muscle in my chest. Varying shapes and sizes, each one vengeful, ready to meet its target and inflict as much damage as it possibly could. And in the end, it thumps and it thumps and it thumps. Resilience keeping it alive. Hope maybe. But it's far from healthy. It bleeds. Oh, it bleeds. It stood by, watching from a distance of dangers it faced. It braced itself, because hope kept it alive. It told it to be brave. The tenseness and anxiety it held, relaxed at the soothing touch, the warmth of that feeling, the soft words uttered; the things it longed for most. Yet fear lived within too. That darkness that was kept in the shadows, the one that doubted the reality of it all. And when it let go of those inhibitions, sinking into that which it desired, finally feeling safe, that's when it was the most vulnerable. That's when the storm hit. That's when the howling winds came. That's when those wicked, screaming demons arrived. That's when the shards hit. Every. Last. One.

And so, yes. It's left bleeding once more. The trickling of darkened red liquid pooled at its base. The taste of iron and the bitterness of it surrounding its senses, because it knows of the damage that's been done. Its scars either covered in blood, or sliced open once more, never healing. It's tired and it's slumped over. It has withered and it's saddened. Because once more, hope was washed away. Its light dimmed another notch lower. But still it's there, flickering within. Hope still lives. And so it thumps. Slow. And it thumps. Quieter. And it thumps. Weaker.

How much longer until it breaks completely? How much longer until it stops? How much longer until that flicker of hope dies and nothing is left but numbness and darkness? Will it still be alive then? Would it still feel?

No one knows, dear one. No one knows the answers. No, not even I.

My eyes look upon you like it always does. My smile just as reassuring. 

Because in the end, it's my fault for letting you in. It's my fault that that turmoil lies within. It's my fault that familiar pain is back. It's my fault for letting my heart suffer and bleed. It's my fault to believe in hope. Yet, my stupidity will always leave me victim to it once more...

Hope. Damned be that light and its promises of happiness, of love, of warmth and care. Dreams. Nothing but dreams, fed by wandering, elusive moments and the brevity of that "Oh so joyous feeling". It's that forbidden fruit. You ache and you ache and you ache to touch it. To taste it. To relish its sweetness. And the moment that you do, you're cursed. Darkness covers the sun, chills replace the warmth, and you brace yourself, because you know nothing good lies ahead. You cower, lower yourself to the ground and brace yourself for the punishment of your selfishness; your will that gave in because you desired for more than you had; for more than you were allowed.

Hope. Be it damned. Extinguish if you must, for I am tired. I am weakened, and I want this to stop. I want these cycles to stop.

Whatever lies ahead, I am ready for, dear one. I cannot bear to go through this again.


End file.
